


This Ain't Hallowed Ground

by Buckye



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3957643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckye/pseuds/Buckye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Zayn decides to leave and go back home things start to crash down on Louis and he finds himself on Zayn's property, probably trying to fix what's left of them, even when what he has to offer is nothing but memories and some make-believe good faith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Ain't Hallowed Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Josh Kelley's "[Cain and Able](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/joshkelley/cainandable.html)".
> 
> So this is set after the twitter 'fight' and includes facts from the James Corden interview, other than that the timeline is up to you.
> 
> Thanks to [Joei](http://www.popunklouis.tumblr.com/) for making me talk about this.

Louis stood at the gates, his hands grasped around the straps of his backpack looking back to where he came, kicking the gate shut. He’s standing on the path that leads to the main door, a small strip of lawn dividing it from the driveway. Kicking a few pebbles to the side he makes his way forward to the door before stopping at the stairs leading up to them, glancing at the handrailing, to the door buzzer he can barely make out at the top of the platform, and the little wreath hanging from the door.

Without thinking twice he takes the two steps over the lawn in strides, standing on the rougher pavement of the driveway, with more space on each side than on the way to the door.  
The pavement is slightly heated from the midday sun and he’s grateful for it when he folds in on his legs, sitting in the driveway, on the slightly mossed over cracks between the stones making up the path, whilst hoping he didn’t crush a bug or two with his heavy packback. It had hit the ground before louis had sit down and relieve Louis of its weight he had forgotten was so heavy.

He let go of the straps, laboriously winding his left arm out of its strap and dragging it around his right side so it sat in front him, lightly screeching with a bit of filler gravel that was initially intended to help against the moss that now caught on the cloth instead, screeching against the stone.

Louis unfolded his legs to either side of the backpack and started to stick his hand into it, holding the flap open with his left hand and rummaging around, grabbing the little pieces he could grasp and placing them in orderly groups to his right and when he couldn’t lean further, also a few to his left.

He didn’t feel like getting up so he slung the almost empty rucksack back over his shoulder and started to organize the stuff he’d brought into little constellations between his legs. It was easier just doing than thinking of what exactly it was he was assembling here at the moment. He picked up some brightly coloured toy cars and faced their snouts away from him and towards the entrance gate. Glancing at the sky suspiciously and being grateful to only spot a few small and distinctly white clouds, he lifted the few comics he brought and placed them beneath the cars so their covers wouldn’t flap open in the mild breeze. 

Without looking to his left he attempted to grab the few pieces of cloth he had dumped there, but after two grasps that had him scratch his nails on the stone and catch dirt beneath his nails he caved and looked, to find his hand only mere inches away from the sleeve of one of the shirts.  
With an exasperated sigh he grabbed it between his index and middle finger and pulled it forward. Holding it in the air and shaking it against the sunlight he made sure to get rid of the bit of dust he was sure had gathered beneath the cloth. He had forgotten about why he placed the comics beneath the cars and was hit with a gust of fine dust in his face and eyelashes, making him blink and let go with his left hand, rubbing his eyes and cursing quietly.  
The shirt flapped against his face coolly, a tad bit too soft and Louis was quick to grab it again, folding it as best as he could holding it against the wind and in midair, drawing his right leg up so he could place it to the side of the things he had already put together in front of him.

Aiming for a little Thor action figure to his right he stopped mid movement, squinting despite the sun not being on full display anymore he caught sight of a figure standing on the pathway, keys dangling like an off-key windchime and getting his attention.  
He didn’t dare look up further, instead making an awkward motion behind his back to stuff the figurine back where he had gotten it from and dropping it unceremoniously once he had it gotten inside. Without paying attention to void left behind by the loss of the sharp metallic sound that had startled him, his movements turned quicker to gather the things together he had so carefully arranged only mere minutes ago.

Not being able to grasp everything quick enough he shuffled to his knees, ignoring the jab of a few splinters beneath his knees and without fear of damaging the fabric, pulling his backpack back front again and trying to pack everything up once more.  
His head was chanting. What were you doing. What were you even doing. What did you think this would bring you. What benefits did you expect from this. Did you even think this through. What were you going to do once you were done. You need to learn some impulse control. What on earth were you doing?!  
Louis dug his nails into his knees, panting as if he’d just run a marathon, leaning over, sweaty palms on his thighs and with a ringing in his ears that gratefully stifled the accusations in his head.

“What are you doing in my driveway. Get lost, Louis.” the voice isn’t even loud or pointed, but calm and collected and filling up Louis’ whole system. Louis doesn’t move. He’s afraid his mouth would speak like his brain, I’m already lost. Without you.  


“Did you not hear me? Pack your junk and go. There’s nothing for you here.” The voice had come closer, not much, but even without looking Louis knows the small strip of grass has been crossed. He sits up straight and tries to even his breathing. Lifting his head and looking only an inch past the eyes boring into him he says, “I sleep in the bus during tour nights.” Huffing out a breath he continues “The lads in their comfy beds with roomservice, five stories above me. And I’m in the cold and dingy parking lot in my bunk bed trying to sleep.”

His gaze shifts to the sky, maybe the horizon, maybe just down the road. “After I wake up I can sometimes still hear you snoring just across of me. Plan another funny way to wake you. Halfway through grinning to myself imagining the face you make once you’re almost awake that’s when I realize that you’re not there.”  
Eyes staring into the other’s. “That you’re not going to come back.”  
Louis stands up but doesn’t move forward. “I haven’t even said your name.”

Something tickling the underside of Louis’ chin makes him go for it, only noticing it’s wetness when he wipes his hand at the back of his pants and some dirt gets caught. Blinking once, more slowly, he allows himself to notice that he’s crying.

The keys have been packed away and a different backpack gets dropped on the green, then he’s burning all around. A press against his left shoulderblade, against his right side, a nose against his right collarbone and knees knocking into his.  
Louis takes a shaky breath, riddled with wet sniffling and trembling hands, and then the grip tightens and his head drops against the shoulder that’s slightly taller before him. His fists find themselves tangled into the cloth against the hot expanse of a back and he knows all too well that the black shirt must be soaked through already.

The hand moves from his shoulder blade to the nape of his neck, pressing firmly. The nose nuzzled into Louis hair and only there to warn him of the slight press of lips that precedes mumbled words and a stroked back. “It’s okay Lou, it’s ok, I’m so sorry, I’m here, I got you.”  
Louis grits his teeth and frees his hands, aiming to push against the grip that holds him tight, to push against the chest he had been leaning into. With angry fists banging against the ribcage he lets out a small whimper “You’re sorry. You’re sorry? You’re sorry?!” He tries to get free, feels too hot and antsy to be held still, wants to grab his things and go, just as he had been told to.  
“You’re sorry, but you left. Zayn, you left! You just fucking left!”, almost biting his own tongue in anguish he can’t stop shaking and Zayn’s head starts to ring with You left _me_ you left _me_ you left _me_.

Louis can’t get free, he doesn’t even think of stomping on some feet or butting his head against Zayn’s nose but he can’t get free and it swallows him up, the sun too hot, his body on fire and his thoughts in scrambles and “Yes. I did. I know.” and he’s free.  
Stumbling backwards, one step, two, there’s only air pulling at his shirt and hair. Zayn traipses past him and packs the rest of the stuff Louis hadn’t managed to put together yet, slings it across his shoulder and grabs Louis wrist, pulling him along. Carefully grabbing his own backpack and making sure Louis doesnt stumble up the stone cold stairs he unlocks the door.  
Dropping the keys in a little bowl by the door he drags Louis along to the living room, where he deposits the rucksacks and tries to put Louis on the couch.  
Grabbing Louis by the hips and freezing in their fumbling movements for a bit he asks if Louis has eaten yet. Louis shakes his head, so Zayn makes sure he follows him into the kitchen.

He gently places Louis on the counter between the stove and the fridge, opening the latter to retrieve some leftovers from home made food last night. Grabbing a pot and slightly heating the goods, stirring it on the hot cooktop only a few hand’s width away from Louis he can hear him knocking his heels against Zayn’s cupboard. Drumming his fingers against the worktop and looking anywhere besides Zayn or the food he’s stirring, Louis’ gaze is locked on his rhythmically moving feet.

Carefully placing his own hand above Louis fidgeting fingers Zayn continues to stir as if nothing has happened, but Louis movements still and he lets out a shaky breath. Somewhere along the way the tears have stopped coming, his face almost dry.  
When the food is warm Zayn aims to grab a few plates from above Louis head, tugging his hand so he leans down and Zayn can reach. His arm briefly brushes against Louis soft hair and it tickles but Zayn just keeps on moving.  
Pulling Louis down from his perch Zayn can reach the drawer with the cutlery, pulling Louis behind himself and letting go of his hand and shoving the spoons into them instead he grabs the filled plates, makes sure the stove is turned off and gestures in the direction of the sitting niche. 

Zayn carefully put the plates down and then went to fetch some coke from the fridge, pouring each of them a glass and placing the bottle a bit up the table for easy reach but far enough away as to not obscure their vision of the other.  
Louis stirred around his plate a bit, without actually eating much, but Zayn dug in, figuring Louis will catch up. Halfway through his plate Zayn stops though, placing his spoon down and laying his hands on the table. “Lou, you gotta eat.”  


So Louis does. It’s not much at first but with each bite his appetite seemed to return and in the end he’s finished even before Zayn, leaning back in his chair and patting his belly absentmindedly. Mumbling quietly he adds, “That was really good Z. Made it yourself, I can tell.”  
Zayn smiles around his mouthful but doesn’t look up until he’s finished his plate and drank up his coke, standing up and putting the dirty dishes into the dishwasher while Louis stayed seated and waits for whatever is next to come.  


Walking towards the kitchen door Zayn extends a hand and risks a small grin in Louis direction, “You coming?” and not waiting for Louis he walks on into the living room, hearing Louis’ chair scuffle around the floor behind him.  
Walking past their backpacks Zayn sits down on the sofa, patting next him indicating for louis to sit down and he does. “If you’re gonna put 'em up, shoes off though, you know the rules.”  
Louis doesn’t protest which was what Zayn had been aiming for, but when Louis shoes are off Louis drops his head into Zayn’s lap without further ado and pulls up his legs.  


Reaching for the remote Zayn grabs a blanket and throws it over Louis’ legs and leans back into the couch, turning the TV on to nothing in particular.  
Exhausted from earlier it doesn’t take long for Louis to fall asleep, nuzzling his face into Zayn’s thigh and gripping his lower leg to keep him still.

Zayn lets a hand rest on Louis head, gently stroking over his cheeks and dried tears, pushing the hair out of Louis face so it doesn’t tickle him whilst sleeping, slowly losing focus of the tv programme and just smiling down at the sleeping form nestled against him.  
Zayn’s pretty sure that Louis knows as well, that when he wakes up they will actually have to talk about this. Properly and face to face, something they’ve always dreaded and never felt the need to do, so Zayn lets his hand settle against Louis neck, careful not to wake him and lets Louis have his rest until they both have to walk through that conversation that's arduously inevitably to come.

**Author's Note:**

> No beta, all mistakes are mine (sorry about the tenses in particular).
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr at [fjreproof](http://www.louistomlinson.de/)!


End file.
